


Mistakes

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [30]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Actors, Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar Room Brawl, Bathroom Sex, Cheating, Cheating Alan, Cheating OFC, Depression, Divorce, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, Fighting, Fist Fights, Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infidelity, Jealous Alan, Jealousy, Large Breasts, Makeup Sex, Married Couple, Married Life, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm, Paparazzi, Regrets, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Seperation, Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sexual Fantasy, Size Difference, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Alan and (Y/N) both fuck up...
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Kudos: 13





	1. Mistakes Part I

Moaning, panting, breathing, skin slapping against skin.

Never before has she been so embarrassed in her entire life. Sure, no one would probably notice, but she can feel her whole body heat up like a fire, her cheeks staining bright red, and her palms becoming sweaty.

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat and she thanks the Lord that the room is dark.

"Ah-ah-aaah!" A female voice calls out in a shriek over the gigantic cinema screen.

"Uuuurgh!!" A voice so deep and silky follows soon - a voice she knows all too well. She also knows _that grunt_.

With her head bent down she shields her eyes inconspicuously with her palm. She soon finds a piece of thread, hanging off the seat, far more interesting than her husband's pasty white backside on full display for five-hundred celebrities and guests to witness.

Her eyes shift towards Alan's face, sitting next to her, and he swallows in shame as he too looks away from the screen.

She rolls her eyes and looks to her other side. She cannot stand to look at him tonight. It feels like he broke her trust - sure, nothing is actually happening in real life, but it still hurts that he didn't tell her about doing this scene in his new movie.

He always asks permission, or at least informs her, if he is required to do some _more than naughty_ scenes.

Maybe that's why he asked that she doesn't come to the set while they were filming? Maybe that's why he was hesitant to let them attend the screening tonight?

She thinks back to when she found the invitation in the trash a week ago and how he blatantly refused to attend it, saying that he's not proud of the film.

_But surely he must know that I would find out about the film. Either by watching it, reading a review, or scrolling past stills of the steaming hot scene on Pinterest._

The shot shifts to a downward close-up where you can clearly see Alan pulling out of the actress's rear with a condom wrapped around him.

 _Surely, they would've used a stand-in for that,_ she silently hopes.

A lump starts to form in her throat and it feels like she cannot breathe. Just seeing him with another woman makes her head spin out of fury. She squeezes her hands into fists as she tries to calm herself by breathing through her nose.

"Do you like it when you bounce on my cock like some blonde barmaid?" She hears _her husband_ utter those words to the co-actress through raggedy breaths.

Her mouth hung agape. He's never spoken such filth before in his entire life. _No wonder he's not proud of the film._

After another torturous half-hour, the credits roll on the screen, the house lights turn on and everyone stands up to applaud the actors and crew.

With a tight-lipped smile (Y/N) applauds too as most of the guests turn to face them in order to applaud Alan.

As they wait their turns, for all the guests to make their way out of the screening room and into the adjacent after-party room, Alan discreetly reaches for (Y/N)'s hand and in an apologetic manner, strokes her knuckles with his thumb.

Her eyes shoot daggers through him and she slowly peels her hand away from his. She can see the look of pain as she proceeds with her action.

_Good. Now he knows how I feel._

"Alan! Over here!" A journalist from the BBC calls him over to the media rails and both him and (Y/N) are steered into that direction.

Of course, as procedure calls for, after the screening the interviews take place. Again, she's not allowed in his shots and needs to stay exactly five feet away from him.

Nevertheless, it's close enough for her to still hear his responses over the screaming crowd of fans.

"Alan, I'm sure there are a few ladies in the crowd who imagined themselves doing _the deed_ with you.." the journalist speaks into her microphone with a chuckle.

Alan's face scrunches up in shock and he's somewhat taken aback and disgusted by the question.

  
"... How was it doing that scene knowing that you still need to go back home to your own wife afterward? " The journalist finishes her question.

"Uhm. Well, you know... There's nothing glamorous about doing a scene like that in filmmaking. We come on set in the morning, we shake hands. I say: 'Hi, how are you? I know it's early, but do you mind bending over this table for me while I _pretend_ to do you from behind?'" He chuckles nervously.

(Y/N)'s fuming at his response. She knows he won't say ' _Oh, you know. I actually didn't tell my wife that I'll be doing a scene such as this. I thought it best to lie about it and have her find out about it along with five-hundred other strangers,'_ but that was the poorest politically correct excuse of a reply she's ever heard from him.

In order to calm her inner self she takes a moment to observe her surroundings. They're standing outside on a quite dirty looking red carpet, media with flashing bright lights behind barrister on her left and an ear drilling crowd of fans on her right. She also takes mental notes on where all the security is situated, in case one of these loonies jumps the barristers.

She shivers and wraps her arms tighter across her chest as she feels the nip in the air tonight. She looks up and sees clouds starting to form in the dark night sky and if the weather report is correct, it should start to rain in about two hours.

_Great._

"Are you usually the dominant one in the bedroom?" Some reporter has the guts to ask causing (Y/N) head to jerk in the direction of the question.

"... She's on top... Most of the time," she hears Alan reply with a nervous chuckle.

_Has he no shame? Why is he even feeding into their questions??_

A few more minutes later has (Y/N) crossing her arms and lightly tapping her foot in irritation. She just wants to drink the cheap wine they usually serve at these events and dance the night away.

Luckily, after the fourth interview Anthony, Alan's assistant, pats his watch with his index finger discreetly indicating to Alan and the journalist that the time is up.

After wrapping up the last interview he gracefully escorts the couple through another set of doors and into the after-party venue.

It's always the same-old, same-old. The latest pop and R&B music blaring over speakers, waiters with trays filled with awful knock-off champagne, celebrities mingling... Blah, blah, blah.

She grabs a glass of the bubbly liquid and downs it in one gulp before placing it on a passing tray and quickly grabbing another.

"Great response from the audience, I'd say," the co-actress, Juliet Stevenson, walks up to the couple with a cheerful smile.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes as she can feel her blood boil just by looking at the woman and she feels like she's about to vomit into her glass.

She's never liked Juliet. Sure, she was great alongside Alan in _Truly, Madly, Deeply,_ but she's always a tad too clingy and bubbly whenever she's in Alan's presence.

"S'cuse me," she mumbles with a grunt and decides to take her glass of champagne and catch some fresh air out on the balcony.

She pushes through the double glass doors and gasps as the cold wind smacks her straight in the face. She makes her way over to the black iron wrought railings and gently lets her fingers pass over the cold metal.

She takes a deep breath and stares out into the magically lit city of London. They're too far removed to hear any of the usual traffic. It's dead quiet outside with only the howling of the wind rustling through the trees surrounding them.

She hears the music from inside increase and then decreases as the balcony door opens and shuts quickly.

How she wishes it would be Alan ready to apologise.

"Tell me something - did they make him use a prosthetic during filming or is he actually hung like a horse?" An enticing voice calls from close behind her.

She turns around and goes weak in the knees and her mouth suddenly goes dry. Right there in front of her stood her lifelong crush - Colin Firth.

Dressed in a dark navy suit, white button-up shirt, and those irresistible black-framed glasses, he smirks at her and raises his martini glass in a salute.

She squealed so hard when watching him in _Kingsman_ that Alan nearly left the room.

_Keep your cool around him, don't embarrass yourself._

"He's a gifted man, what can I say," she sneers slightly into her champagne glass before downing the bubbly liquid.

"It sounds like you're not too happy about it," Colin placates while popping the olive from his martini into his mouth.

With a sigh she answers, "Not when the whole world now knows what he looks like... down there, no," she turns back to the city view.

"How is the old man treating you, by the way?"

"Listen, can we change the subject, please? I can feel my blood pressure starting to rise."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to upset you. I... I have to say Alan is a very lucky guy to have met a dame like you. It makes me wish I had the chance with you before he did," he smiles solemnly as he makes his way next to her.

"Really?" She asks taken aback with a raised eyebrow.

She sees Alan in her peripheral vision looking at them and decides that it's time for payback.

The pair of them have always joked about having full amnesty if they ever were to meet their crush. Hers is Colin Firth and his is Keira Knightley.

 _Will she take the amnesty jokes seriously tonight? Will she really go through with sleeping with Firth?_ He wonders shockingly to himself.

He's somewhat disappointed when he sees her smiling at something the actor said.

"Well, then. What he can't see won't hurt him, now is your chance. Pretend that I am not married - _heaven knows I wish I wasn't right now_ \- and chat me up like the way you wanted to."

"Very well," he says confidently after some hesitation.

He moves closer to her, somewhat towering over her, and whispers pick-up line after pick-up line into her ear.

The sensation of another man this close to her is definitely new and feels strange... _Wrong_.

Her eyes scan past Colin's shoulder into the room and she sees Alan glaring at the couple over his wine glass.

 _Screw it, you bastard_ , she thought and threw her head back with an elegant laugh.

Colin is very pleased with her reaction and decides now would be the time to place his one hand on her waist.

 _Perfect timing_.

She stares up into his eyes and her hand travels upwards to his neck where she lightly tugs on the end of his hair.

She notes how large his pupils have expanded since they first started flirting. She leads him by the hand around the balcony to a side door away from the crowd.

He places his hands on the back of her thighs and with a grunt he lifts her roughly onto the cold marble countertop. His cold lips latch onto her moist ones and their tongues soon dance in a fiery ritual.

Her head starts to spin from the champagne and lust mixed together. His cologne is sickly sweet and causes her nostrils to feel like they're burning slightly.

His hands travel to her waist, running down to her covered thick thighs. Hers make their way into his short brown locks, tugging gently.

 _Is this really happening?!_ Her mind screams as she feels his hand travel near a dangerous area while his lips latch onto her slender neck.

She holds her breath as he gently pushes her thighs apart and tries to shove her dress out of the way.

She spots herself in the mirror on the opposite wall and she has to admit this looks hot. Colin Firth positioned between her legs, latched onto her throat, her neck thrown back with lips slightly apart - definitely an image she'll store away forever.

_Think of the consequences, (Y/N)! Do you want to lose Alan forever? Because he won't stand for this. He won't take you back after doing this._

His other hand grabs a clothed breast and rolls it in his palm. She hears the sound of his zipper as he reaches for his trousers.

 _This is it - the point of no return. If there's a decision to be made, make it now, woman!_ She swears she heard that in Alan's voice.

_Alan._

"Stop!" She yells and holds him at an arm's distance.

"Everything alright?" Colin pants between breaths.

"No, I- I can't do this..."

"Pardon me, but I was under the impression you wanted this?" He says disappointed with his hand still on his zipper, about to take himself out.

She looks up at him sheepishly.

"I can't do this to Alan. I'm sorry, this was a mistake," she hops off the counter and pulls down her dress frantically.

"Here," he hands her her black clutch bag and she takes it with an apologetic smile. "You're an incredibly loyal spouse. Alan is lucky to have you."

"Not so loyal anymore considering what just happened," she shrugs sincerely.

Just then the bathroom door swings open revealing a very confused and hurt looking Alan.

"What the-" he starts fuming.

"Al, it's not what it look-,"

"Don't you _Al_ me," he says dangerously low while stalking closer.

"The phrase 'it's not what it looks like' indicates that it is indeed _exactly_ what it looks like," he sneers.

"Look, Alan. Nothing happ-" Colin starts waving a defensive hand in front of him, one hand in his pocket, when Alan's fist came flying through the air and lands a punch on his nose.

"Alan!" (Y/N) gasps and covers her mouth while looking concerned down at Colin where he stumbled down against the bathroom wall.

"I guess I deserved that one," Colin chuckles slightly as his hand reaches to touch his bloody nose.

His suit is scrunched around his waist as he sits up against the wall and takes off his broken glasses.

"You're bloody well right you deserve that one!" Alan yells furiously at him.

"We're going home," he swings around and barks at (Y/N) as he grabs her roughly around her upper arm.

"You're hurting me!" She hisses in a whisper and tries to pry her arm out of his grip.

"Watch me give a flying rat's arse," he sneers sarcastically as his chestnut eyes bore holes into her chocolate brown orbs.

He drags her out of the men's room and decides to use one of the emergency exit doors closest to the bathroom to avoid drawing any attention to them.

Her red Manolo Blahnik heels click unstable on the wet cement pavement as he drags her through the rain to their awaiting Jaguar. He pulls the door open and nearly shoves her in, slamming the door shut as soon as her rear touches the seat.

Her ears ring from the loud clang and she shoots Michael, their driver, an apologetic look in the rearview mirror. She watches Alan in the headlights as he makes his way across the front of the car to the other side.

Her heart starts racing and her mind goes fuzzy for she knows she is in deep trouble. Panic sets in as she thinks about the consequences of what could happen. She can sense Alan is beyond pissed and worked up, and she's worried not only for herself, but also for his health.

To say that the car ride back home was awkward would be underplaying it.

She kept holding her breath waiting for him to lash out at her. In her nervousness her fingers kept tugging at the expensive lace on her dress.

Alan, on the other hand, kept clenching his jaw in rage as she could tell from the way his jaw muscles moved and his fists kept clenching, too.

So many times she wanted to reach out and say she's sorry. She wanted to just hold him, or have him hold her. But she's afraid she might have royally fucked up.

Nevertheless, her stubborn Dutch background shines through and her mind immediately shifts to how this all started because of him and his untruthfulness.

 _I'm not backing down without a fight,_ she thinks to herself as she watches him jump out of the Jag and storm into the house while leaving her behind in the cold and rain.

"Would you care for an umbrella, Ma'am?" Michael's voice pulls her from her thoughts.

She looks up at him in the rearview mirror as he awaits her answer.

"No, thank you, Michael. I'll survive," she says solemnly as she too makes her way out of the car and sprints through the drizzling rain, into the house.

"What in God's name were you thinking?!!" He shouts at her as she enters, soaked, through the front door. She is startled for a minute as he was right next to her, awaiting her entry.

"What was _I_ thinking? What were _you_ thinking, Alan?!" She yells back as she roughly grabs the back of her muddied heels and slips them off as she holds herself steady against the sideboard.

Her dress is soaking wet and her hair is clinging to her face in strands. She shivers violently at how cold the house feels.

He rushes forward, slams his hands against the wall on either side of her head, cornering her in.

"I asked you a question!" He growls like a chained Rottweiler.

She starts shaking lightly and she's reached the point of being scared. She knows Alan won't physically hurt her, but who knows tonight? He might be in a completely different mindset especially with the alcohol they both had consumed.

She can see the rage in his eyes as they scan her features. Some of his spit has also made its way to the corners of his mouth.

_Tread lightly, (Y/N)._

"Fine. Nothing happened, we were just kissing," she says softly with a shrug of her shoulders and swallows a lump in her throat.

She knows she should be more remorseful, but heaven knows she's not backing down now. She can't show weakness now.

"And you think it's okay to just make out with actors in men's restrooms? We're in the public eye, for God's sakes, (Y/N)!" He shouts at her causing her to flinch and whimper underneath him and the veins in his neck to bulge.

He immediately picks up on her discomfort and releases her from his hold, moving away from her and into the living room instead.

"You kiss actresses all the time! Why shouldn't I?"

_Nice, (Y/N). That was the poorest comeback I've ever heard._

He shoots her a death glare across the room and his eyes follow her every move as she moves into the living room too.

"The difference is, I get paid to do it," he counteracts while pulling his wet jacket off and discarding it onto the tan leather sofa.

"So, you're a prostitute?" She states playfully while folding her arms across her chest.

"Are you intentionally trying to rile me up?" He growls at her.

_Don't poke the bear, (Y/N)..._

"I should have expected such a response from you since you're still a _child_ yourself!" He spats hurtfully.

"What the hell did you just call me?"

He swallows guilty, "You clearly heard me."

"And you clearly don't want to take the risk of saying it again." She challenges bitterly. "Don't you dare bring my age into this!"

"Why not? This is typical (Y/N) behavior - throwing a tantrum, like the child you are, because you can't get your way!"

"What are you saying, Alan? That I'm too young for you, all of a sudden?" She swallows the ever-present lump in her throat.

"I don't know, (Y/N). Maybe, yeah. Maybe I should've married someone older, someone more mature, someone who understands the ins and outs of the movie industry better than you do!" The words left his mouth a moment too soon.

He knows he's going to regret saying that in the morning. There's nothing wrong with (Y/N) and he wouldn't trade her for anyone in the entire world. She's a saint - understanding, cooperative, accommodating. But as with all arguments, we all say things we don't mean.

"Do you want a divorce, is that what you're saying?" She asks quietly with a scowl.

"There you go again - changing the subject to veer from the main argument," he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Which brings me back to my earlier argument: had it not been for you this evening, none of this would have happened!"

"How are you making this my fault?" He asks incredulously.

"How is this _not_ your fault? You take me to a screening only to have to sit through twelve minutes of you fucking Juliet Stevenson!!" She yells angrily and she's not sure if the wetness rolling down her cheeks is from the rain or her tears.

"Oh, please! It's not real and you know it!" He spats.

"Oh, it's not real, is it?! Then why is this the one time you didn't tell me about doing a scene like this?"

"...Because I know you would say no to me doing the scene!"

"Then why on Earth would you go ahead with it if you knew I'd say no?" She shouts in disbelief with both arms thrown up in the air.

"It's my job to make movies. I don't need your permission on which movies I can and cannot do!"

_That hurts._

"You know it's not about asking permission. It's about common courtesy and making sure no one feels uncomfortable or offended!"

"They added the scene last minute. We already shot most of the movie, I couldn't back out of it even if I wanted to," he defends angrily.

"Oh, please! That wasn't a movie, Alan, that was a porno!" She rolls her eyes at him.

"Can you... keep your voice down?!" He breathes through gritted teeth. "I don't think the neighbours at the end of the street heard you!" He shouts back.

"What is it that you're not telling me, Alan?" She challenges suspiciously.

_Something is off. He let the whole 'kissing Colin in the men's room' argument go to easily._

"..." He looks over to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and swallows hard.

"Alan!" She shouts at him causing him to slightly jump in his shoes and look over at her with small tears in his eyes.

"I want an answer, goddammit!" She slams her fists against the wall in a flash of rage.

He swallows before answering, "...they didn't have a stand-in on set. The part... where I pull out..."

(Y/N) gasps in disbelief and covers her mouth with both her hands, "No... Please tell me it's not true."

"That was real." He looks away shamefully.

He has to duck quickly as a vase makes its way past him, missing his head by mere centimeters.

"HOW COULD YOU!!" She yells in anger. She can taste her salty tears mixed with the rain in her mouth.

"It was just one take and I was wearing protection," he defends with a raised voice.

_I_ _knows there's no way I'm winning this argument. Making out with Colin comes nowhere close to what I just admitted to._

"You were _inside_ her, you bastard! That constitutes as cheating!!" She yells broken-hearted across the room and wails.

He feels like his heart is breaking as he hears his wife wail loudly and clutches her stomach as she bends over the sideboard.

 _She's emotionally breaking right no_ w, he thinks to himself.

All he wants to do is rush over and hold her until she's calm. Tell her everything will be okay again. But he knows that not to be true.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" She yells rhetorically.

Yet another piece of furniture flies past him and shatters loudly against the wall behind him, this time a handmade crystal bowl.

_She usually has a good aim. If she really wanted to hit me, she would._

"Don't - you even dare," his eyes grow wide in shock and he holds his finger up at her as she's ready and aiming his mother's rose gold urn at his head.

She stomps over to him, urn in hand, while maintaining deadly eye-contact. She shoves the urn into his chest and with quick reflexes he grabs hold of it.

She walks a few meters past him and quickly turns to face him again. She harshly rips her wedding ring from her finger and chucks it at him, causing Alan to flinch and the ring to roll with a cling and come to a stop under the sofa.

"You can sleep on the couch from here on out," she growls dangerously as her wet eyes erratically move left and right, almost like she's trying to take in the sight of both his eyes at the same time.

She storms up the stairs and attempts to undo the blood-red dress' side zipper. She pulls and tugs at the piece of metal until it stops abruptly.

"Urgh!" She yells frustratedly at herself.

She pushes her two index fingers into the small opening and pushes the zipper apart forcefully causing it to rip.

She's angry at Alan, angry at herself for ruining a dress she worked so hard to earn with her own money.

She rips the dress from her body and bundles it between her hands before stomping into the bathroom and shoving the dress in the garbage bin.

She wipes her wet nose with the back of her hand and looks up to see her disheveled self in the mirror, clad only in her wet underwear.

_What a difference from the sight she had earlier of her and Colin._

Her face scrunches up in pain as she breaks down crying. Exhausted and wailing she unclasps her bra and takes off her panties, leaving the soaked materials on the bathroom floor.

She shuffles tiredly over to her dresser and picks out a dry pair of cotton panties and an oversized t-shirt. With a sniffle she makes her way over to the bed and plops tiredly down onto the cold material.

She lies on her back and inspects her bare ring finger. She cries as she touches the exposed finger and looks to her left at the empty spot next to her. She can still smell his scent in their bed. _Cardamom and cloves._

She turns on her side to grab hold of his pillow and she clutches it tightly against her as her body wrecks in a crying fit.

Alan sighs solemnly as he hears her muffled screams and sobs ring throughout the house. He's been tracking the sound of her footsteps from above him and he judges that she must be in bed at this point.

After placing the urn back onto the mantelpiece he plops tiredly down onto the sofa and reaches beneath it for her ring. With a grunt he sits back up while rolling the piece of rose gold jewelry between his fingers. The solitaire diamond sparkles and glistens in the low light of the living room. He hangs his head in shame as he thinks about what he's done.

With a sigh he places her ring gently on the coffee table and stands up. He takes his time to methodically hang his wet shirt and suit trousers along with his damp jacket on the back of the chairs in the dining room.

Clad in his black boxer briefs and white undershirt, he makes his way upstairs to the nearest guest room only to find it locked.

_Odd._

He tries the remaining three guest rooms and finds them all locked too.

He chuckles out of frustration.

_She must've locked it out of spite. Well, I deserve it._

He climbs down the stairs and retrieves a sheet and duvet from the downstairs linen closet before making himself a bed on the expensive, but uncomfortable, sofa.

He lies in the dark staring up at the intricate ceiling. He fumbles for his iPhone on the coffee table and unlocks it. He squints his eyes from the intrusive blinding light before sending her a text.

To: (Your Initials)   
_Darling, please let me apologise for what I said earlier. I don't want us to go to bed being angry at each other._

After no response, he sends another.

To: (Your Initials)   
_I love you more than you will ever know and I know you're hurting right now - let me make it right again. I beg of you._

He hears two dings coming from the entrance in the front room. With a frown he looks over from where the noise just came and decides to make his way over.

He spots her black clutch on the sideboard and fishes her phone from inside.

 _Oh, great. This isn't helpful at all._ He tuts in disappointment.

With both their phones he makes his way back onto the sofa. He stares at the black screen of her Huawei and decides that he should rather delete the texts as they sound a tad weak.

He presses the button on the side to find the phone locked. He places his thumb over the sensor on the bottom in the hopes that it will unlock. With a vibrating buzz he gets kicked out.

_Don't know why I thought that would work._

He tries to think of her passcode instead.

 _Maybe her birthday?_ No.   
_Our wedding day?_ No.   
_The day she got the job of Executive Dean?_ No.

He grunts in frustration. He's tried every single combination he can think of.

 _I thank the Lord every day for the day you were born._ Her sweet words run through his mind.

 _022146_. He types the numbers into the keypad and the phone unlocks displaying a background picture of the two of them kissing in the moment.

He recalls Sophie taking the picture during one of their visits.

He opens her Whatsapp and sees the two texts from him. He quickly selects "delete for everyone" and then deletes the notification bars that display "message deleted".

 _She uses a lot of emojis,_ he chuckles aloud as he spots several emojis in the messages beneath his.

A few in particular tickles his curiosity and he decides to open them. He knows she won't mind - being from Dutch heritage she's always been an open person about her business and personal affairs.

_Two-hundred messages between her and her sister in one week?! What on earth could they possibly have to say to each other that many times?_

__  
To: Shishter  
 _Shit, sis 🥴_ _I'm half asleep, unloading the dishwasher when Al comes into the kitchen dressed in a black suit. I had to do a double take to make sure it is actually him 😍😍 Pretty sure my ovaries exploded!!_

From: Shishter  
 _Haha lucky girl! Why is he wearing a suit?_

To: Shishter  
 _He has a radio interview with BBC this morning 🎙️ Funny how he's all dressed up and I'm still shamefully clad in a washed out t-shirt and shorts_ _🙈_

From: Shishter  
 _Yeah, but you know he doesn't mind. I wish I had what you two have_ ❤ _️_

_*Image sent*_ _🍑🍑_

From: Shishter  
 _Fuck! He looks so good in black. Tell him to wear it more often._

__  
To: (Y/L/N) Family Group

_*Image sent*_

_Waking up to this human being is the favourite part of my day, every day❤️_

__  
To: Shishter  
 _Woke up to coffee in bed ☕ and a sunflower on my office desk. I hope this never gets old 🌻_

__  
To: Shishter  
 _Driving with friends to the country side. Al's driving, I'm sitting behind him. We come to a stop at the traffic light and I just see his hand reaching out to_ _me_ _behind his seat. We've been holding hands like this for an hour now. Crazy how safe I feel by just his touch_ _🥰😘_

From:Shister  
 _Tell him to keep both hands on the wheel and eyes on the road!_

_To: Shishter_   
_🙄🙄_

He sniffs and wipes at the stray tears rolling down his aging cheeks.

_I_ _really am her world. As is she, mine._

He opens her gallery and scrolls past a folder labeled _AR PRIVATE - DO NOT POST._

He scoffs with a chuckle. He's asked her not to post any personal pictures of them together as he wants to keep his private life private. He also knows with her age that she loves posting on Instagram and Facebook, mainly for her family and extended family's sakes.

She moved away from South Africa more than ten years ago and social media is the only way they get to stay up to date with her travels and life thus far.

Having a folder labeled _do not post_ just shows him how much she wanted to post them, but decided to obey her husband's requests. He knows it must be difficult for her - not being able to share these special moments with her family.

He opens the folder and scrolls past multiple pictures of them together (not selfies - she knows how much he despises them), most of which he recalls being taken.

More pictures follow of him that he's never seen before. Close-up pictures of his hands, his lips, his eyes. Black and white portraits of him reading and sleeping on the couch. All beautiful photographs taken by her and stored away from the prying eyes of fans and the media.

He locks the phone with a sigh and sets it next to her wedding ring on the coffee table.

How difficult it must be for her to share him with the world and yet, she can't share her own moments with him to her own family or friends.

He understands now why it hurts her so much that he didn't tell her the truth about the film. He understands why it is important for her to know beforehand if he shoots scenes like that - she doesn't want to find out along with the rest of the public. She wants to feel included in the decision-making process.

He lies back down on the couch and falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning she stumbles sleepily down the stairs in the dark. She sees Alan still asleep on the couch and makes her way quietly into the kitchen.

She fills the SMEG coffee maker with water and waits for it to boil. As she silently closes the refrigerator door with the carton of milk in hand, she spots Alan standing in the kitchen doorway as she looks up.

His hair is disheveled and he looks groggy.

His heart tugs at seeing her eyes swollen and red from crying.

She rakes her black nails through her bedhead and blows out a miserable breath while awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other behind the kitchen island.

Alan clears his throat and with a slight smirk asks, "You're wearing my shirt?"

She looks down at the t-shirt she decided to throw on after waking up for the third time in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't sleep and it smells like you," she says quietly and averts her gaze to the multiple magnets on the fridge.

He walks up close to her. She can smell his scent stronger now.

"Darling, don't be sorry. It's me who has to be sorry," he breathes heartbroken as he gently places his hands on her hips.

He does a mental evaluation of her body language and when he finds she doesn't pull away, he softly rests his forehead against hers. She closes her eyes and takes in his scent, his everything.

"I love you so much and last night was a horrible night," his deep morning voice cracks and her eyes spring open to find tears rolling out from under his closed eyelids.

His heartache is hers and she's overcome with emotion as she starts to sniff too.

"Alan," she breathes and slowly slinks her arms around his neck as she wets his shoulder with her tears.

She pulls away slightly and he takes in her solemn features.

"I'm moving out," she bites her bottom lip to try and keep the tears from falling again and walks out of the kitchen, leaving a shocked and confused Alan behind.


	2. Mistakes Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Alan and (Y/N) both fuck up, they need to decide how to fix it.

_**Two days after**_

_Missed calls: 52_   
_Unread messages: 37_

_Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding._

Incoming text messages:

06:21  
 _AR: We need to talk!_

_06:25_   
_AR: Where are you staying? Answer me, woman!_

_07:01_   
_AR: Very mature of you not to pick up the phone. Answer when I call!_

_07:05_   
_AR: I'll call the police and report you as a missing person, I swear! Don't test me. Tell me where you're staying at so that we can talk._

_07:35_   
_(Your Initials): Thea's._

_08:02_  
"What. The fuck. Is. This?" Alan shoves the three morning newspapers into (Y/N)'s chest as he pushes through the door to Thea's home.

She stumbles and catches herself against the back of the door before glimpsing at the front pages.

_Oh, my god. No!!!_

Blood drains from her body leaving her lightheaded and shivering as she spots the stolen snaps of her and Colin leaving the bar looking thoroughly kissed - and drunk! - and another one of her on top of Colin in the uber.

**Rickman VS Firth - WHO WILL SHE CHOOSE?**

**ALAN RICKMAN, A SINGLE MAN AGAIN?**

**RICKMANS SPLIT!!**

She swallows hard as her eyes start to leak tears.

"Swallow your tears and save them for someone who would care!" He scowls through gritted teeth.

"I'm done playing games with you, (Y/N). I've apologised over and over and over again and _this_ is how you retaliate - by sleeping with the one person who started this whole thing?"

"Let's not forget who started this whole thing in the fir-"

"Oh, give it a rest!" He barks causing her to flinch.

"We're past that point already. This is something completely different and you know it!"

"Alan, let me -"

"I will _let you_ nothing! How could you? I made a mistake, but it was for my career. You made this mistake (if it even is one) intentionally to get back at me!"

"I was dru-"

"Oh, you were drunk? How wonderful for you," he calls sarcastically and claps his hands together.

"You drank away your sorrows of a cheating husband to such a point where your brain became mush and your abilities evaporated, and then you decided to get back at the _slightly_ cheating husband... by cheating?!"

"Not _slightly_ cheating, Alan. Cheating is still che-"

"A picture is worth a thousand words and you have two," he holds his two fingers up in the air.

"Oh yeah? You have a whole movie, what's that wor-"

"NOT THE SAME AND YOU KNOW IT!" He blunders out and throws both hands theatrically up in the air.

Quick as a flash she stalks closer to him, entering his personal space, coming to a halt mere millimeters from his face. Although she is nearly two full heads shorter than him she still manages to make him feel intimidated by standing on her toes.

"If you cut me off one more time, so help me God, I will rip your eyes out," she breathes angrily through her clenched jaw and grabs his shirt in her fists.

"Very mature, (Y/N)." He sneers down his nose at her.

A cold slap swings and lands right on his left cheek leaving him stunned. The impact was so hard that his aging flesh turns instantly red and tiny bumps start to form in the shape of her hand on his cheek.

After letting go of his cheek he grabs both her wrists roughly in a fit of rage and shoves her up against the wall.

"You lay a hand on me one more time and I will get a restraining order against you. That will make you of no more value to me than those crazy fans I deal with on the daily," he growls ferociously.

 _How dare he?!!_ Her blood starts to boil and she feels like she can catch a snake by its tail.

"You want to talk about laying hands on each other? Did you even see the marks you left on my arm from two nights ago?!"

She jerks her wrist from his grip and shoves her sleeve to expose her upper arm which showcases the large purple and yellow handprint.

Alan swallows hard. He never meant to hurt her.

"Go ahead, get that restraining order. And I'll make sure to ruin your career by going to the press and telling them how you beat your poor defenseless, not to mention _younger_ , wife," she challenges bitterly.

"You know that's not true," he whisper-shouts, and heat starts to rise up his neck from under his collar.

"It doesn't have to be. I have the photographic evidence and you just said how a picture is worth a thousand words."

"Do you honestly think you have the upper hand here? Before you decide to run to the press, use that pretty little head of yours for once and think about who has the most resources, capital, and support between us," he spats bitterly.

"Oh, it's not about who has the most money to throw around, although I'm close behind you with that one, so I'm not too sure what you wanted to accomplish by saying that," her eyebrows pull together in a suspicious manner as she stares up at him, her eyes evaluating and noting every nervous tick he shows.

"It's about the public's opinion. Sure, you're a sweetheart on telly, but you know what? So was Johnny Depp, Sean Connery, and Nicholas Cage. And look at what happened to them after their wives opened up about their abuse. Burton won't even cast John in any of his films anymore - and that's his best friend. Is that what you want? Because if you want to talk money, let's see how quickly your well dries up after a domestic lawsuit," she whispers with venom dripping from her tongue.

"You want to ruin careers? So be it. What do you think the department will do once a _reliable source_ leaks a statement to the tabloids stating every single detail of how you played whore for Firth?"

"You don't even know what happened between us."

"Like you said, it doesn't have to be true. _She spread her legs so wide only to be met with a micropenis - much to her disappointment, tells a reliable source. She bounced up and down trying to satisfy, not only his, but also her own needs_..." he breathes lustfully.

Just hearing Alan's voice narrate something like that, although inaccurate, causes heat to build between her legs. Her heart starts racing and her mind whizzes with mental images of Alan.

_Not now! You're in the middle of winning a fight!_

She shoves him away from her by pushing with both her hands against his chest. He rubs across his chest with one hand to ease the affected area while looking furiously over at her across the room.

"You're a fat whore; you disgust me," he scowls.

"Marrying you was the biggest. Mistake. I ever. Made," his words cut through her heart like a knife, causing her to slightly gasp at his harsh tone behind it.

_Dear God, he hates me._

"Good luck finding another man who would take you. Most men like their women skinny and manageable."

Her right eye twitches as tears build up and her vision becomes cloudy.

"Get out," she whispers through falling tears.

"Get the fuck out of this house! Get the fuck out of my _life_ , YOU BASTARD!" She yells with a red tear-streaked face and rushes towards him, shoving him roughly out the door.

She slams the door shut and slowly slides down to the floor, hugging her knees, while wailing as her heart breaks like a shattered mirror.

_**Three months after**_

"Jesus, you look terrible!" Thea exclaims as she enters her kitchen and spots (Y/N) over by the breakfast nook.

"Go away," (Y/N) mumbles unfazed as her fingers whizz over the keyboard of her laptop.

"I can't, even if I wanted to - this is _my_ house, remember?" She chuckles lightly and after receiving no response from (Y/N) she grows concerned.

With a sigh she slides into the bench opposite her friend. She takes note of the mountain of white and pink A4 papers scattered across the table. She catches glimpses of the journal topics while trying to read upside-down.

_Fashion in an ever-changing industry. Fast fashion and its supply chain demand. How fast fashion is destroying the planet. Zara, H &M, Topshop. The high price of fast fashion._

Multiple yellow highlighter strokes fill the pages. She also notes some of (Y/N)'s own handwritten notes and diagrams.

"Look at me," she requests, and (Y/N) shoots her an angry glare over the rim of her glasses.

"You haven't showered in weeks; you haven't eaten a single meal since moving in three months ago; you've been sleeping on a very uncomfortable couch..." she ticks the list off her fingers as (Y/N) continues to click away at the keys.

"...And you're not wearing your contacts anymore which tells me your eyes are tired all the time."

"So what?" she sneers over her laptop.

"So... You haven't been paying attention to yourself lately. You look... and smell... horrible," she says playfully while reaching a hand over to her friend.

"Have you answered any of Alan's calls lately?" She attempts softly.

Wetness already fills her eyes to the brim and she shuts her laptop with a bang before looking bewildered over to Thea.

"Why do you always have to ruin a good writing session?" She hisses as she rips her hand from her friend's hold and wipes her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffling.

"This thesis is going to be the death of you, Doll. What's the point of having a second Ph.D. when you're going to die of starvation or a heart attack right after?"

"It keeps my mind off things - let me be," she sighs and abruptly leaves the kitchen for the living room.

"Rickman," Alan's deep voice answers the phone.

"Just doing the daily report. She's still not eating, still not showering..." Thea says solemnly over the phone.

"Oh, (Y/N)..." he breathes concerned with a shake of his head and his forefinger and thumb pinch the bridge of his nose.

He instantly regretted every single word he said during their fight on that fateful morning. All things untrue and purely said to injure the heart. _Her heart._ He's been trying to reach out and apologise, but without any luck.

"Also, she hasn't put her laptop down once. All she's doing is typing away at her thesis all day long. We need to put an end to this."

"Well, when is it due? If I remember correctly it should be some time this week..."

"It's due in three days. I think she's more stressed out about it than she lets on, Alan."

"Okay," he sighs in defeat. "You try to get her to eat something and I'll phone the department and ask if they can send a counselor around today," he suggests.

"She won't talk to them and you know it. Look what happened last month when you sent a psychiatrist 'round to my house. She freaked out and didn't come out of the bathroom for four days."

He does remember that, of course. He was just trying to help. She's still his wife and he still cares deeply about her.

"Has she at least been taking her meds?"

"Alan... She hasn't and you know it. She's severely depressed - she hasn't been to work for the past three months, either. I've been trying to cover for her, but I mean, she's the boss. Without her there, things are running haywire. Good luck trying to get the department to grant her anything. "

"Oh, God... She's throwing her life away. I don't know what we're going to do then," he runs a hand over his tired face.

"You know what you need to do. You need to apologise to her!" She whisper-shouts into the receiver.

"I've been trying, but she won't take my calls or answer my texts!"

"You need to do it in person, Alan."

"...No. She needs her space. You're the one who told me that."

"Three months ago, yeah! She doesn't need more space. Any more space and she'll fall off the surface of the Earth. She can't take care of herself, Alan."

"Why am I the one supposed to be apologizing anyway? She's the one who cheated," he snaps angrily.

Just the mere memory of it makes his blood pressure rise.

"Stop arguing with me. You both cheated - end of story! Not a little bit or slightly, there's no such thing," Thea rambles quickly before Alan can cut her off.

"Her sister is furious at me, she doesn't even know the whole story yet, but she agreed to fly in and stop by your house this afterno-"

"Okay, good. It can be like a family reunion. She'll be here, (Y/N) will be here and you can come over and apologise like you were supposed to do from the start," she presses the end call button before he could give a response.

"Okay, I'm heading into work. Remember, work?" She asks sarcastically as she makes her way into the living room.

(Y/N) glares up at Thea and pulls the duvet further over her head where she's lying on the couch.

"Why don't you go take a shower and get out of the house, hm? Go do something - anything," she suggests sweetly.

(Y/N) peeks out from under the cover and growls lowly at Thea before rolling over onto her other side.

"Okay, well. I would like you to have a shower today - we have a guest arriving this evening." She grabs her keys and bag before leaving her flat.

As soon as Thea leaves, (Y/N) unlocks her phone and starts her morning ritual of scrolling through all the photographs she has of her and Alan together.

She locks herself in the bathroom and sinks down into the cold dry shower as she lets her tears flow freely. For three months this has been her routine every day. She would look at all their memories together, cry in the shower, pull herself together, and finish typing her thesis.

"I brought tomato soup and baguettes from Greggs," Thea states later that evening as she enters the flat with two brown paper bags in her arms.

"Oh, you haven't showered?" She says disappointed.

She was hoping that the mention of a guest would motivate (Y/N) enough to take a shower.

She grunts as she sits up on the sofa, still dressed in her black yoga leggings, white CSM t-shirt, and a pair of white socks. Her once luscious shoulder-length locks are now oily mousy-brown strands framing her face.

She adjusts the laptop on her lap and continues typing away. Her fingers doing a dance of their own on the tiny keys.

"Urghmagod! I can never have some peace and quiet around here," she moans as she hears the doorbell ring.

"That would be our guest - could you get the door, please, hun?" Thea calls from the kitchen.

"Do I have a choice?" She mumbles inaudibly under her breath.

With a groan she places the laptop harshly on the coffee table and drags her feet to the front door. She opens the door and is greeted by her younger look-alike.

"Hey, sis. Thought I'd check up on you," Sophie says with a faint smile and a shrug of her shoulder.

Although she's hiding it from her older sister, she's shocked to see (Y/N) when she opened the door. She's lost so much weight and is probably on the smaller end of the plus-size scale now. Her cheeks look hollow and grey circles underline her once sparkling eyes. Her hair is a right mess - dull and oily.

With tear-filled eyes (Y/N) slings her arms around her sister's neck and sobs uncontrollably as she buries her face in the crook of her neck.

"There, there. Sophie is here. Sophie will fix it," she comforts while rubbing soothing circles on her sister's back.

With a nod of her head, Thea takes Sophie's carry-on bag and leads the two sisters into the flat. She points in the direction of upstairs and Sophie catches the hint, leading her older sister up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Tell me everything that happened from the start," she asks gently as they both take a seat on the foot of the bed.

With a hiccuped sob, (Y/N) starts explaining how Alan was his own 'stunt man' for the sex scene with Juliet Stevenson.

"I'll kill him, the bloody rat!" Sophie exclaims with subtle sarcasm evident in her voice.

She can't imagine why that would be such a big problem for (Y/N). Yeah okay, he stuck it in someone else, but it's for a movie. No feelings attached.

"No, wait... He's not the only one at fault," (Y/N)'s voice cracks and she looks shamefully away from her sister's piercing green eyes.

"...What do you mean?"

"I was so angry at Alan for not telling me about the scene... That I- I-..." (Y/N) starts crying again.

"You, what?" Sophie frowns in confusion.

"I... made out... with another actor in the men's room at the screening," she breathes through falling tears.

"Seriously? That's what you did? My God, sis, I thought you were gonna say you slept with someone," Sophie rolls her eyes playfully and sighs in relief.

(Y/N) looks up at Sophie and bites her bottom lip guiltily.

"What? What are you not telling me?"

"I- I slept with someone, too, butIdidn'tmeanto!"

"No, nooo, (Y/N), tell me that's not true..." she breathes disappointed and covers her open mouth with her hand.

"I was just so angry at Alan.... And I... I..." She closes her eyes and lets out a gut-wrenching sob.

"There, there," she comforts by rubbing her sister's hunched-over back.

She twitches her nose from side to side in order to get rid of the awful smell her sister is giving off. She smells of black pepper and sweat.

Sophie has a weird unsettling feeling inside her. Like when someone tells you a secret you didn't want to know. She's never known someone who cheated and she never in her life thought her goody-two-shoes sister would be the one cheating.

She doesn't know how to react in such a situation and she's afraid that this might not be that easy to fix.

"Who was it, by the way?"

"Wh- what?" (Y/N) hiccups and raises her head from her knees.

"Who was it that you slept with?"

"Colin Firth..."

_Gasp!_

"No way! You little minx!" Sophie squeals in delight.

"But come on - Alan agreed to full amnesty on that one," she offers in a glimmer of hope. "I'm sure he'll let you off the hook?"

"It's different, sis. It's all playful talk until the deed is actually being done... No one wants to feel betrayed like that."

"Well, does he know?"

"Yes! Of course he knows! It was plastered all over the morning newspapers and tabloid magazines. He came barging into the house and yelled at me for what I did. I've never seen him so angry in my entire life," she sniffs and takes her glasses off in order to wipe at her wet eyes.

"Did he... Hurt you? Did he get physical with you?"

"Both of us got physical. We weren't holding back, I can tell you that. He- he..."

"He what?" Sophie asks concerned.

"He said," her voice cracks. "He said the meanest things to me," she swallows a sob and her bottom lip starts trembling like a baby's.

"He kept emphasizing how immature he thinks I am and how I'm too young to understand any of the things he needs to deal with on a daily basis. And then he went on to yell how I was a whore for retaliating against him and how he made a mistake by marrying me..."

"And the- and then..." She sobs uncontrollably.

"Take your time," Sophie soothes again while shifting her sister's glasses to a safe spot on her other side.

"He kept telling me how... FAT I am... And how no other man would want me because of my weight..."

"I'm seriously going to kill that man," Sophie breathes furiously. "How dare he?!"

"That's the thing that hurt me the most. Because of all the reasons he loved me, he always said my body was his favourite. Now, I'm finding that to be an utter lie! Of all the men in the world I thought myself to be lucky to be loved by Alan Sydney Patrick Rickman for all that I am. Now I feel like an utter fool for believing him!"

"Pfff," Sophie snorts a chuckle. "His middle name is Sydney? HA!"

"Sophie!" (Y/N) cries unbelievably. "Are you even listening to me?!"

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry. He was way out of line for saying those things and I'm sorry that he said them... But I truly believe that he doesn't mean them..."

"Whose side are you on?" She asks incredulously.

"I'm on the side of the angels, of course," she exclaims theatrically.

"Now is not the time for your sarcasm!"

"Look, (Y/N), I'm sorry that you're hurting, but you need to be honest with yourself. You both are at fault here. He cheated, you cheated - end of story. Yes, sure, he said some really mean things - WHICH I WILL MAKE HIM PAY FOR - but he was hurt. I'm sure you didn't hold back when you threw his expensive furniture at his head-"

"OUR expensive furniture," (Y/N) corrects quickly.

"Yes, okay. But you two are different in that sense - he's an actor with plenty to say, so he hurts with his words. When it comes to fight or flight you're a fighter, so you lash out by physically hurting and breaking things."

"And I'm not going to sit here and encourage you to wallow in self-pity. I can sympathize and play the understanding sister, but I won't tolerate you being a miserable, depressed dump of a human."

_Silence._

"Thea says you haven't been taking your meds, why?"

"Because I would much rather die in a hole than face Alan again..."

"Let me see something," she calls silently and brings both her sister's arms closer into her view. She turns to look at the insides.

"You haven't been cutting again, have you?" She dreads the answer.

(Y/N) pulls her arms back and rolls her already wet eyes.

"No, I haven't..."

Heaven knows it's taken a lot of self-control not to. She's had to stop herself multiple times from taking a kitchen knife to her wrists or using her razor blades again. How she wishes she could much rather experience physical pain than the emotional pain she has been dealing with for the past few months.

She's thought about killing herself multiple times by jumping out the guest room window of the double story flat (hence, why she's been forced to sleep on the couch in the living room and now has no access to the upstairs area). She's also taken a handful of pain killers which resulted in Thea rushing her to A&E to get her stomach pumped and Alan subsequently sending that psychiatrist to the flat. But she won't tell her sister that.

"What happened, though? Between you and Colin, I mean. How did... You two end up together again after the making out scandal?" Sophie tilts her head in expectation.

" _Two more tequila shots, please," (Y/N)'s speech starts slurring as she holds her fingers up to the barman where she's slouched over the bar top._

_"Tequila? What are you trying to forget?" That same voice from two nights ago asks behind her._

_Although her actions are delayed, her eyes grow in shock as she slowly turns in her seat._

_Colin-fuck-me-sideways-Firth._

_"You_ _," she says bluntly._

_"Why me?" He asks as he takes a seat next to her at the bar._

_She eyes him up and down suspiciously and turns to face the bar once again._

_"Whiskey on the rocks and put her drinks on my tab," he calls to the barman and hands his credit card over the counter._

_"I moved out, y'know," she mumbles as she takes the one shot of the clear liquid straight._

_"You always keep a straight face when downing Tequila?" He chuckles._

_"Yes. I don't get why people pull their faces or even need the lime and salt afterwards," she shrugs before throwing the other shot back too._

_"Why did you move out?" He asks into his whiskey._

_"Because Alan and Juliet actually made love on screen."_

_"You don't mean... Surely, he wasn't that stupid?" Colin asks incredulously._

_"Turns out he was. Or is. Whatever," she slurs._

_"I can't believe he would do that to you," he says before ordering another whiskey and downing it in one go._

_"Should I file for divorce, d'you think?" She rubs her eyes in the hopes to try and get her vision to focus again._

_"My wife had an affair... did you know?" He perks up in his seat at the memory._

_"Yeah?" She mumbles as interested as she can be._

_"Hm-hm. It was a few years ago. It wasn't just for the screen, though, it was a full-on affair that lasted a few months," he sighs through his nose._

_"Shit. I'm sorry."_

_"Hm, don't be. They deserve each other."_

_"All this talk about affairs is making me horny," (Y/N) utters unfazed and rubs her thighs together under the bar._

_Colin shoots her an unbelieving look as surely he must have misheard her. He's not sure if the fourth glass of whiskey has impaired his hearing._

_"I need to go to the bathroom," she gets up from the barstool and stumbles, catching herself against the countertop._

_"Need a hand in there?" He calls sarcastically with a smirk._

_With a shrug she replies, "yeah, sure. Why not."_

_The bar bathroom is disgusting to say the least. The walls are a blood-red colour, the dark doors hanging off their hinges. Wet toilet paper lay in piles on the broken white tiled floor_ _and a strong urine smell mixed with faint whiffs of vomit hangs in the air._

_He shoves her roughly against the greasy mirror and attacks her lips in hot passion. He briefly wonders how many people have had drunken sex in this restroom._

_"Shit, I've called for an Uber a good few minutes ago," she breathes between their kisses_ _as she clutches at his jacket fronts._

_"Where is it taking you?" He asks hotly and sucks on her neck, leaving a dark red mark._

_"A friend's house," she moans heavily._

_"Can you change the destination or is it too late?"_

_She stares into his eyes for a second as they both halt their actions._

_Fuck it, let's do it, she muses in her mind._

_S_ _he kisses him sloppily as they stumble into his Nottingham flat. Hands fly frantically across each other's bodies in search of comfort._

_She's lost all sense of direction and all sense of control at this point. But who gives a fuck?_

_She shoves his jacket off and harshly rips the front of his shirt causing the tiny white buttons to fall to the floor and scatter into various directions_ _of the kitchen._

_He walks her backwards to the bedroom as they keep sucking at each other's mouths, and plops her down onto the bed._

_He pulls her black jeans down her legs along with her underwear and shoves her button-up shirt upwards, revealing her breasts still caged in the delicate floral lace bra._

_(**This is what I imagine our reader to be wearing. Picture from Pinterest**)_

_He groans in satisfaction as he visually takes her body in. She rests on her elbows as she watches him rummage through the bedside drawer. He pulls out a foil package and makes quick work of ripping the wrapper._

_"Here, let me," she slurs and holds her delicate hand out._

_With a smirk he hands her the ripped package and comes to stand in front of her as he undoes his pants and pulls himself out. He's already rock hard as his member springs out from his underwear._

_She takes a deep breath before wrapping her fingers around his girth and gently stroking it a few times. She's mesmerized as she slips the clear plastic up his velvet soft length._

_He adjusts her slightly heavy legs to rest upon his shoulders and he scoots forward before pushing into her slowly._

_She squeezes her eyes shut and fists the red satin sheets as pleasure builds low in her core. It feels different from having another man's cock inside you._

_Different size, different length, different sensation..._

_Tingles run through her body and it feels both delicious and wrong at the same time._

_"You really do feel amazing," Colin grunts as he continues to thrust upwards into her._

_Quick as a flash and somewhat to (Y/N)'s surprise he turns her over and pushes into her from behind. He slaps her left butt cheek, instantly leaving a red handprint._

_Whoa. What the hell was that? She wonders shocked in her drunken state as her bent-down head keeps bobbing back and forth from his thrusts._

_"You like that, yeah?" He moans sensually._

_Fuck no, I didn't like that at all, is what she wanted to say. But instead she gasped loudly as he pulls out and slams fully into her forcefully._

_He sure does like it rough, she thought silently._

_Her breasts protests against their hanging positions and she reaches back to unclasp her bra, groaning at how good the sensation of her free breasts feels._

_She throws her head back, tongue poking out from her half-open lips when she spots them in the mirror against the wall opposite the bed._

_This looks even better than the image she has of them in the mirror making out at the screening. This is definitely one to remember. That's if she remembers anything at all due to the high volume of alcohol she has consumed tonight._

_Her thoughts seem foggy and everything seems like an out-of-body experience. Her mind feels numb as she remembers Colin still going at her from behind._

_She's somewhat confused as to how she got here. Wherever here is. She feels Colin's nails digging into her hips as his body goes rigid. She feels his cock contracting and a warm gooey liquid making its way down her inner thighs._

_Did he come? I'm not sure..._

_All sensation comes back to her mind and body when suddenly a burst of pleasure releases from inside her._ _She feels Colin's fingers rubbing vigorously at her sensitive bud between her sticky legs._

_"Ooooooh Gooooood!" She squeals and pushes back against him in order to keep him thrusting inside her._

_He does and he soon sends her over the edge again. Her muscles contract, and her stomach clenches as two orgasms wash over her like tsunami waves._

_Her legs start shaking and she's sure at some point she stopped breathing as pleasure shot through her._

_After she's done he plops down on his back next to her. Still, on all fours, she looks over at him through clouded vision._ _He slings his arm over his eyes as he tries to control his heavy breathing._

"I hate myself for cheating. I hate myself for giving my body to another man that's not Alan. What was the point of staying a virgin for twenty-eight years and waiting for my wedding night to share my body and soul with only one man when I would just throw it all away _after_ being married?!"

"Yeah, I have to agree with you - that was stupid. You should have slept with Colin BEFORE getting married and committing to one man," Sophie jabs playfully.

"Just stop it, okay? Your supposed _joke_ s are not helping the situation right now. If anything, it's only adding to my guilt!" She shouts in an accusatory manner and another wave of tears rush down her red cheeks.

Sophie stares in shock at her sister. She's not sure why she lashed out like that out of the blue.

"It's just a joke, my God..."

"Just... leave, please," she pleads in a whisper and curls up on her side on the bed. "I don't need your sympathy. I don't need help from you or anyone else. Just leave me alone," she whispers softly and almost exhausted.

"(Y/N), I'm sor-"

"Gooooo!" She yells defeated over her shoulder.

With a sigh she turns to leave the room and switches the bedroom light off before making her way downstairs.

 _I should have been more sensitive,_ she reprimands herself.

She hears the familiar bass voice and slowly walks over to where Thea is letting Alan in at the front door.

"Oh, there you are. How is she?" Thea asks concerned.

"S'cuse me," she says unfazed and walks up to Alan, completely ignoring Thea's question.

"Sophie," Alan greets with a nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile.

"Alan," she greets politely before her palm swings through the air and lands on his cheek.

He clutches his cheek in shock and looks bewildered at her.

"That's for calling my sister fat, you arse."

"Always a pleasure, Sophie," he quips and walks past her into the living room.

"How about both of you sit down and we can try and see if we can work this whole thing out, yeah?" Thea offers sweetly and leads them to the couch.

"This is where she's been sleeping?" Alan asks incredulously as he picks up the duvet and places it next to the couch on the floor.

" _Sleeping_ is a strong word to use. She hasn't slept much since she got here," Thea offers with a sad smile as she sits down next to Sophie, opposite Alan.

"How is she, anyway?" Thea asks and looks expectantly over at Sophie.

"She's... crying. I might have been a tad insensitive and she asked me to leave the room," she looks down at her chipped nail polish.

"Alan, I think you should go up there and talk to her. You're the only one who can talk some sense into her - have her eat something and take a shower."

"Yeah, God, she smells awful. Ugh!" Sophie pulls her face in disgust.

"I'm sure I'm the last person she wants to se-"

"Oh, to hell with what she _wants._ It's about what she _needs._ Right now she needs guidance on where to go from here. She needs someone who can take care of her because she clearly is lacking that ability right now," Thea says riled up.

"Where _do_ we go from here?" He asks sadly as his fingers come to rest under his chin and he crosses his one leg over the other.

".......Do couples ever recover from something like this?" He breathes desperately.

"It doesn't matter what other couples do, Alan. Your relationship is different and each relationship follows its own set of rules. You don't _have_ to divorce just because you both cheated, especially if you both clearly still love each other. If you're willing to look past it and work through it, then so be it," Sophie says hopefully.

"Is that her final decision?" He swallows guiltily. "Did she tell you that she wants a divorce?"

"Look, she's torn in half. She loves you, everyone can see that, but she cheated and she hates herself for that. What she hates more, is that her religion is standing in the way of making you happy..." Sophie utters conflicted and runs her hand through her hair.

"How do you mean?" He asks with clear confusion evident in his voice.

"According to the Christian Bible, a person is only allowed to divorce because of adultery. Both of your acts comply with the criteria if you ask me," she replies snarkily.

"BUT... in (Y/N)'s mind, God will hate her forever and banish her to an afterlife in hell if she were to ever divorce as she's breaking a promise she made to God himself. So, of course she feels she owes you a divorce in order for you to be free and live a life of happiness, but at the same time, she'll be giving up her Saviour; her religion."

_Indeed, it is a difficult dilemma. But does divorce need to be the answer? Am I willing to look past what both of us did and try to work through it?_

Seconds feel like hours before Alan finally speaks with a sigh.

"I'll go talk to her," he utters and leaves for upstairs.

With a heavy heart he walks up the stairs, step by step. He's overly aware of how loud his heart is beating as he comes to a stop in front of the closed bedroom door.

He knocks politely and after receiving no answer he pushes through the door with a soft creak. It's pitch black, but he can hear her soft sniffles.

There's a pungent smell hanging in the air and he figures it must be her. He shuffles closer to the edge of the bed and turns on the soft glow of the lamp.

He sinks to his knees next to the bed as shock overcomes him. _This_ is not his wife. This looks like a college student on the verge of a mental breakdown.

His eyes scan her features and body, taking in her puffy eyes, her hollow cheeks. Her usual tan skin is now a milky white and he figures it must be from the lack of vitamin D. Her t-shirt is scrunched around her waist and he notes how much thinner she is now under her clothes.

He cringes at the thought that she would let herself go like this. He knows it's been bad, but he never imagined it to be this bad.

He gently pats her head and pulls away, inspecting his fingers. A thin layer of grease coats his fingers and he inconspicuously wipes it off against his linen jacket.

At the touch of her hair her eyes shoot up and they well up again as she looks straight into her estranged husband's face. Her eyes dart frantically across his face, mentally taking him all in.

"Come," he says ever so gently in his double bass voice as he helps her sit up in the bed and softly takes her hand, leading her into the en-suite bathroom.

He bends down and puts the stopper into the tub before filling it with warm water. He picks one of her favourite scented bubble baths and squirts a decent amount of the gooey liquid into the water. He puts his hand in the water and swishes it until a thick layer of bubbles form.

With careful fingers he slips her smelly t-shirt over her head and bends down to take off her yoga pants and underwear. He notes how she hasn't shaven, probably in months, as a layer of hair covers her legs, underarms, and womanhood.

He tosses her clothing to the side along with her white socks. Like a marionette she stands, staring out into nothingness, letting him help her.

He gently takes her arm and helps her into the bathtub filled with warm soapy water. He wets her hair with the detachable showerhead then squirts a fair amount of the Tressemé shampoo into his hands and lathers it into her hair. He takes his time raking his fingers through her hair, letting his nails scratch her scalp in the way that he knows she likes it.

Again, she remains silent, just letting him do whatever needs to be done. He lets the water from the removable shower head run over his hand as he sets it to the right temperature.

Careful not to get any soap in her eyes, he takes his time once again rinsing her hair and running his fingers through the wet strands. He applies the conditioner and repeats the same procedure.

She rests her forehead against the cold tiles as Alan washes her hair. She's ashamed that she let things get this far where she can't take care of herself anymore. Guilt overcomes her and tears fall from her eyes for the umpteenth time.

He gently places an arm on her shoulder and guides her body towards him. He lathers up a wet cloth with Dove soap and gently runs it over her arms, her legs, her back.

He rinses it and re-applies the soap as his hand reaches between her legs with hesitation. He's not sure after all that has happened between them, if she would let him do this.

"May I?" He asks softly.

_This is ridiculous. Why are things becoming this awkward that I need to ask my WIFE if I can touch her?_

She nods her head minutely and looks away shamefully. With utmost care he slowly opens her folds with his thick fingers, taking his time to wash her outsides as well as her insides as far as he can reach. He does the same for her breasts and her behind.

He searches the cabinets and after a good few minutes he finds a single razor. He sees the detachable razor blades locked in a clear container and looks worriedly over at her. He briefly wonders if the lock on the container has anything to do with her history of self-harm. Or if something happened that Thea decided to lock it, or if she just locked it as a precautionary measure.

He lowers himself onto his knees and gently applies conditioner to her fuzzy legs. He knows she hates wasting shaving foam. With long gentle strokes he shaves her legs, careful not to nick her skin. He does the same between her legs and under her arms.

All his gentleness overwhelms her and with a loud wail her body wrecks in a fit of cries. She covers her face with the palms of her hands and leans with her curled-up body against the cold tiles.

Alan swallows the thick lump in his throat. He can see the amount of guilt she keeps piling onto herself.

_She shouldn't have to go through this._

He reaches for her hand and intertwines their fingers, letting their hands rest under the warm water.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling," he grumbles lowly and he can hear his voice starting to crack.

_That's the first term of endearment she's heard from him since three months and two days ago._

The thought alone makes her cry even more.

He helps her out of the tub on weak legs and wraps her body in a thick white towel. He hands her a new toothbrush and paste and watches as she brushes her teeth and rinses her mouth.

He sees her looking at herself in the mirror. He notes how her eyes critically scan over her face and body. He sees the pain in her now dull brown eyes. The guilt. The shame. The _hate._

He spins her slowly her around by her towel and places her on the counter.

"Look at me," he demands quietly and touches her chin lightly.

"You are an amazing woman... You are so very smart... You are the most beautiful creature I've ever lied eyes upon... You are strong and kind..." his voice cracks and he licks his dark pink lips to rid them from his tears.

He stares into her chocolate orbs and her into his chestnut ones.

"I am terribly sorry for all the things I said. I was hurt and I wanted to hurt you. I have a wounding tongue, I know - it's the Celt in me," he gives a watery chuckle and she looks down at her hands on her lap with a weak smile.

"I know you're hurting and I know there's probably nothing I can say now that can take the words back from that night..." he lifts her chin up once more.

"I want you to know that I don't plan on divorcing you soon. I mean, if you feel strongly about it then I respect your decision... But I won't expect you to consider it just because of our actions. I'm happy with you, mistakes and all, and I can't see myself marrying another. What happened with Juliet was unfortunate and I didn't think it through..."

Her hand gently goes up to his neck and she slowly brings him forward, resting their foreheads together. Her hands wrap around his clothed back and she squeezes him tightly.

"I'm so terribly sorry for what I've done, my love," she sobs quietly.

"I- I was angry and I didn't -"

If there's one time that is appropriate for him to cut her off it's now. He can see the amount of pain she's going through trying to explain why she slept with Firth. He's not going to let her retell it if it hurts her emotionally.

"Shhhh," he looks up at her and places a finger on her wet lips.

"We don't need to explain anything to each other. All that matters is that, if both of us agree, we work through this patch and we move on. Is that something you would like to do?"

She screws her eyes tightly and with huge relief utters quietly, "Yes. Yes, please."

"Good. Because I love you, (Y/N). I love you more than my career, more than any amount of money or publicity... And I'll be damned if I ever let you go. Three months was long enough and I apologize for letting this whole debacle continue for this long," he reaches between them for her cheek and softly wipes her falling tears.

"Next time something like this happens, we sleep in separate rooms - not couches - for the night and we talk things through the next morning when all emotions are calmed, hm?"

She nods her head minutely against his forehead.

"I love you, Alan," she breathes and bites her bottom lip between her teeth as she envelopes both her arms around his neck, pulling him closer in between her legs.

His hands come to rest on the towel on her hips as he stares lovingly into her eyes. He can see some of the sparkle slowly returning.

"May I kiss you?" He whispers softly and looks down at her lips.

They both lean forward and slowly lock their lips together. It felt like the first time they kissed back in the day. She missed the feeling of his lips on her skin. His touch on her body. They kiss slow and passionately, both afraid that they might break the other.

Alan's hands travel underneath the towel and he gently caresses her soft and clean skin. His thumb gently strokes over her saggy breast and he pays special attention to her light pink nipple.

His other hand travels lower and he rubs circles with his thumb on her inner thigh as her hands rake through his hair and clutch at his shirt.

His clothes. He remembers he's still fully dressed and he quickly sheds his jacket and shirt, careful not to break their kiss. It's like they're using each other as breathing devices. They're too afraid to let go of each other. They need each other to survive.

She lets her hands explore his naked chest and she sighs at how she missed his soft pudgy stomach. How could they let three months pass by like that?

Her hands travel lower and she undoes his pants with her delicate fingers. He steps out of his pants and slowly pushes into her. She's still clad in the towel and uses it to cover their bodies as they both slowly rock together. He throws his arms around her waist under the towel and presses her tightly against his chest and she buries her face in his neck.

They make love in the bathroom. Neither fast nor passionate, but slow and sensual. They take the time to relearn each part of each other's bodies.

She nibbles on his earlobe which elicits a groan from him. He sucks on the sweet spot in her neck which causes her nails to dig into his back.

He lifts her slightly off the counter and re-adjusts her on him as he slowly moves in and out of her. Skin against skin. Raw emotions. Everything feels just right.

She can feel the pressure building inside her as he presses up deliciously against her pleasure spots. The silky smooth skin on his cock feels so good as it rides back and forth inside her. He stretches her to her full capacity and she almost forgot how big he actually is.

She wraps her arms around his back and clings onto him for dear life. She knows she can't live without him in her life. He completes her shortcomings.

They both emit their love through their actions tonight and their loyalty and trust are almost tangible.

He rests his forehead against hers and stares into her eyes. At last, it seems like the fire has ignited again inside her eyes and he smiles a watery smile.

 _This_ is his wife.

Even though tonight is about showing their loyalty to one another while making up for lost time, and not about who reaches climax first, they both start to feel the oncoming of an intense couples orgasm.

His legs start shaking and tingles run up his back as he keeps his thrusts slow and steady. She can feel the pleasure already pooling low in her stomach and she tightens her grip around her husband.

With each thrust a burst of emotion shoots through her body and it's something she hasn't experienced before. She's never had sex this intense before. She has to swallow consecutively to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Alan feels the need to utter between heavy pants.

"And I, you, Alan," she whimpers.

With heavy panting and whispered moans they both come undone in each other's arms and reach joint climax.

She can hold back no longer and she lets the tears fall from her eyes as her body convulses in pleasure. Alan is usually loud in the bedroom, but seeing as though they're at Thea's house he settles for grunting softly in her ear as his seed spills inside her.

After the wave of pleasure washes over them, he reaches for her face and tucks a wet strand behind her ear.

"Are you okay?" He inquires softly after noting her tears.

"Hm-hm. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying. I've never had an emotional orgasm before," she gives a watery chuckle and runs her tongue over her wet lips.

He places a kiss on her forehead and carries her bridal style before laying her softly down on the bed. He covers her clean naked body with the thick duvet and crawls in next to her before letting her have a decent night's sleep for the first time in a long time.


End file.
